


Lessons in subtlety

by Alayne_StoneColdFox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Jealousy, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:50:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alayne_StoneColdFox/pseuds/Alayne_StoneColdFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa wears something rather daring to a feast, and she can tell Petyr is conflicted about her choice of attire.</p><p>On one hand, he could not stop staring, but then again, neither could any of the other men in the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons in subtlety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marquise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/gifts).



> A birthday fic for Marquise/Apprenticemockingbird! Everyone should indulge themselves with what they love on their birthday, and if that happens to be some dark minded kinky fuckery, then I am happy and willing to give.

I had been sick of drab grey and dull green dresses, with plain stitching and even plainer fabric. Alayne's choice of clothes, not mine, but bastards could hardly ask for better. So when Myranda announced she would be throwing an event three evenings from now, to keep all of the knights and nobles entertained, I was immediately worried about what to wear. She said it was no great ball, simply an evening to keep everyone amused (Since she could not stand the idea of anyone thinking her court was dull, she had said) but even so, I would have liked to have a decent gown to show off. What girl wanted to look dull at an event?

Thankfully, Myranda declared it would be a crime for me to wear any of the meagre gowns I owned. Not while she had something to say about it. In her typical Myranda way she had said It would have been an embarrassment to her, to have a friend in ones company look so bad, but really she was playing down her kindness. 

She had lent me a gown, one from when she was younger, and less buxom in the hips and waist. Though I still had to sew it tighter in some places, it ended up fitting as perfectly as I wanted it too. I had laced up my corset even tighter than usual, since I wanted to cinch everything in, and push certain other things up. See, this gown was very, very low cut. It sat lower on my breasts than any gown I'd ever owned, or rather, anyone had ever let me own.

True, I did not have too much to work with, but with them all pushed up like this, and compared to the narrowness of my waist, my little handfuls looked quite inviting. I had dabbed perfume behind my neck, as well as on the tips of my nipples. I remembered the maids doing that before my wedding all that time ago. It was clearly the done thing when a girl was expected to be bedded.

The hall was filled with every one of the knights and noble men and women who had been invited from across the vale for the tourney, and as soon as I entered I could feel their eyes on me. I faltered for a moment, just a brief flutter of self doubt in my tummy. 

No. I look good, I told myself. They are staring because I look good.

Petyr had been talking to Ser Roland and Lady Waynwood, but as I came over, they stopped and turned to see what had caught Petyr's attention so abruptly. I knew it would elicit a response as soon as he saw me in it, but I had to contain my smile, as it was simply too self satisfied.

“Daughter,” Petyr proclaimed as I approached “I was wondering when you would be joining us.” 

Of course his voice was even, and his face a mask, though his glance took me in head to toe.

I did a polite little dip to the three of them “Father, Lady Waynwood, Ser Wallace.”

“My lady,” Ser Wallace regarded me, all charm “Let me be the first to say that you look stunning this evening. I feel quite inclined to take you to dance now, as I'm sure men will be lining up for the honor all night. I best get in quick, while I have my chance.”

I couldn't decide between giggling sweetly, or looking down bashfully, so I did a mix of both. Sweet, sheltered Alayne was not used to such compliments.

“You needn't worry, Ser Wallace, I would gladly give you your chance when you want it.”

I notice Lady Waynwood bat her eyes too quickly as her lips thinned, though Ser Wallace seemed to have liked it. 

The small talk continued on politely, as I nodded and looked pleasant throughout. I chanced a look at Petyr and saw that his smile was unassuming, but his eyes met mine quite fiercely. I didn't hold his gaze though. I may lose my nerve if he stared at me like that for too long.

Harry found me not much later, and whisked me away to dance. He also made mention of how nice I looked, and his glances weren't un-subtle, and that had made me feel better. Ser Wallace had been right about the boys of the hall, they all wanted my hand as soon as it was free. For an hour, or even close to two, there was not a moment I was still. Myranda would pull me to the side of the hall as well, filling my cup as she laughed with me, making comments about the worse dancers behind her hand to my ear. I danced with the knights, Lord's sons, even a one particular handsome squire, as well as an older Lord, who I am quite certain was married. They held their hands on my waist, some of them stroking precariously low so that they almost held my rear. They would dip their heads towards mine, as if they hoped for a kiss right there and then. I didn't give it to them, but I did not pull away either. I danced until I was dizzy, though that might have been the wine. The one Myranda kept giving me was so sweet It went down as easy as water.

The whole time I wondered if he was looking. I did my best not to search him out, to seem like I was keen for his gaze. Though, in saying that, I couldn't help but glance his way when I spotted him by the side of the room, or talking to some other lord, or sitting by the raised table overlooking the hall.

He would catch my gaze every time.

I was breathless by the time I pulled myself away to the side of the room, another five songs later, realising I was famished, as well as a tad light headed. I should have something decent to eat, I thought. The sensible thing to do would be to sit down, and try some of the quail or roast vegetables, but the tray of cakes passed me by first. I plucked one from the tray, marvelling at the fact that the cakes were even being served. Had time truly passed that quickly?

I bit into the cake, and to my surprise, warm gooey jam dripped from the centre. My mistake, I had thought it was a lemon one. I brought my hand up quickly to dab at my mouth, but a drop of the jam had already oozed out and dripped down to my chest, and I let out a whine as I realised it had stained my borrowed dress.

“Alayne.”

I turned, red face, my mouth still full of cake, as Petyr appeared by my side.

“Do you feel in need of some fresh air?”

He slipped his arm around mine, and I knew it wasn't really a question, so I didn't even bother to answer. Instead I resigned myself, because what good would causing a scene do? I let myself be led out of the main hall and up the steps to the guest apartments. How much fresh air would there be in our chambers? I thought, but didn't say.

“Alayne,” My name was called a second time, this time by Myranda, who had followed us out “You are retiring? It is not even midnight yet”

I turned on the steps, wanting to tell her that I would've loved to stay till midnight, but my answer was given for me.

“I'm afraid Alayne may have had enough of the festivities for one night, my lady. It may be time for her to see her bed”

Myranda slumped a little theatrically “Oh, but we were having the best time. Can't she stay an hour longer at least?”

“With the way I saw you filling her cup, I doubt she would last that long”

Myranda laughed and pouted “Oh, why must fathers always ruin their daughters fun?”

Petyr smiled at her “As is our duty, I suppose.”

He turned to leave, with me still attached to his arm, when Myranda called back up the steps.

“Will you be returning, once you've put your daughter to bed, Lord Baelish?”

I didn't turn back for the frown that had come over my face. She spoke of me as if I was not standing right by her to hear. You are only a few years older, Myranda, and my friend at that, and I am not something to simply be put away.

But Petyr smiled at her “Only if I am promised a dance, my lady.”

O0o0o00o00o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The walk to our chambers was a quick and uninterrupted one, and soon as the door was open, I was unceremoniously pushed inside and the door latched behind us.

I almost stumbled, but not quite, and for the first time the idea that I might be slightly drunk crossed my mind.

“Well, you've certainly made a show of yourself tonight.”

I caught the condescension in his voice, and it hurt me a little, so I didn't turn to face him.

“What do you mean?” I said, with false innocence that I knew he would see right through. I crossed the hearth towards the bed, the half eaten cake still in my hand, the raspberry jam having trickled between my fingers in a sticky mess. I crawled on top of the covers, more childish than ladylike, and plucked crumbs from the mess of the cake to my mouth with my fingers. 

As I turned around, Petyr had already crossed the room and was stood by the foot of the bed, right by me.

When Petyr was angry, he was never truly angry. I had come to think he would in fact never yell at me, or curse at me, or spit at me...his anger was never obvious or easy to assess. You had to look at the way his eyes watched you, the barely noticeable shift in his tone, and the words that he perhaps didn't say, rather than the ones he did.

My eyes met his as I tried to gauge how to play this best.

“Look at you....look at the state of you.” he tutted, not entirely kindly.

He raised his hand to my face, where his thumb wiped roughly over the corner of my mouth, where there must have been a smattering of crumbs.

My worry subsided a touch when I noticed his eyes, as dark as they were, still dipped down to the hem of my bodice.

“What must the Lords of the vale think of you? To see you staggering from boy to boy, everyone that asks you, as if you were a village girl in a tavern?” 

“Where does a bastard girl get the gall to turn down the offers of those of noble birth? She is lucky enough to be asked” 

I made my tone as gentle, and my words just as biting, as he did.

“Well, can you perhaps tell me where a bastard girl gets the gall to dress herself such as this?” His hand found my bodice, gripping just under my breasts, his thumb not an inch away from my nipple. The touch made me swallow, and I tried not to squirm under his grip, if only to have that thumb shift that extra inch...

“Do you not like my gown, father?” I asked, in a small voice “Lady Myranda gifted it to me. It too would be in poor form to turn down.”

I was surprised by the brevity of my own answers. Perhaps that was the wine.

“If this was your misguided attempt to woo your dear Harry, you know there are other ways to tempt suitors than flesh. I have taught you better ways myself”

I caught the contempt in his voice as he uttered 'My dear Harry' and I couldn't help but flash him the smallest of smiles at that.

“Harry seemed happy enough with my ways”

Now I was simply being reckless, and as if to cross the point of no return, I raised a hand to my mouth, the one still stained with raspberry jam, and darted out my tongue to lap at the sticky coating on my fingers.

That was when I was pushed down onto the bed with a small yelp. The remnants of my cake were dropped, as Petyr pinned me down.

Yes, good.

“When it comes to garnering attention from men, you need more lessons in subtlety, sweetling” he murmured, his face ever so close above mine. I wondered if he could smell my perfume, or the wine on my breath, as I could smell the mint on his.

“I would suggest lessons in subtlety yourself. Your jealousy couldn't be more apparent” 

His eyes, that had been so focused on the the tops of my breasts, my lips, flicked upwards in a moment. In silence he told me that was too far. I should not have said that. 

But I had known that. Harry was his sore spot and we both knew it, but to utter it out loud...what could be considered a weakness...and here I was jabbing a finger to that mottled bruise, only making it darker.

His hand went to grab at my breast, and he was not gentle. His fingers dug into my skin as he yanked down the fabric to expose me, and I hissed as he pinched at my hardened nipple.

“You didn't like Harry's eyes on me?” I goaded further, legs parting as Petyr slid in between them.

“He will have his turn...he will have you eventually.” He said, hands winding to my waist to pull my dress down further, yanking at the laces.

I was sad to hear the rip as he lost patience, and pulled the last of the skirts and materials down over my hips, as I wriggled out of them, my flesh goose pimpled against the cold air and alive with his touch as he scraped his nails down my stomach, leaving smooth pink lines to appear where they had traced.

“Until then you would have me wear gowns up to the neck? Sleeves to the wrist? Not even an ounce of flesh on display to keep his blood hot?” I gasped as his hand found my pussy, claiming it with a grab of his hand. I could feel the cool touch of his rings against my wet lips, as his fingers curled into me.

“Until then I would have you as mine, to hell with Harry's blood, lest I spill it” He answered with undisguised venom. His fingers played at me until I was wet and coating his hand, slipping three fingers into me at once so that I gasped as he stretched me. He would not let me have pleasure alone, as he fucked me roughly with that hand, crooning his fingers, and latching his mouth into my breast where he bit.

He was going to dance with Myranda after this, he had said. When he led her to the floor, would he have washed himself, or would she feel the tac of my cum on his fingers as she clasped his hand in hers?

I decided I wanted him to bury his face between my legs too, to grunt and snarl into my pussy in that way that he did, like an animal, hungry beyond belief for me and my taste, licking and rolling his tongue over me, lapping at my as if he was starving. Let him kiss her hand then, as their dance ended, with those same lips.

But he didn't. He ordered me on my knees, and his hand pressed down on my neck on the bed. Again, his fingers entered my pussy from behind, this time to lift my ass up, to spread my legs and submit. To let him pose my body as he wanted to view it.

With my face pressed to the sheets, I could not see him, but I knew he was admiring me, so I arched and pushed my ass up as high as I could. This is what animals do when they want to fuck, I thought, presenting themselves like this. My pussy clenched around his stilled fingers at the base thought.

“You know you're beautiful, don't you?” he spoke “My beautiful, beautiful girl. How they'd all like to see you like this. All those admirers of yours....a beautiful face, beautiful breasts and a beautiful pink slit, glistening like this....look....look at what they'd see.”

I lifted my head, so that I could look through my own parted legs, and I saw a thin rivulet of cum dripping from me down his hand to the bed sheets below. It made me feel like a whore. It made me roll my hips back on his hand, all the same. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Petyr asked, and I nodded, a muted yes escaping my lips.

His hand thrust into me, so that my ass and thighs shook, and I was ground into the bed even further.

“Speak up when you answer me”

“Yes!” I cried into the soft mattress “Yes, fuck me, please, yes!”

His fingers left me, but I was jolted forward with a cry of relief as his cock replaced them, thicker and longer.

I remembered a time, that did not feel too long ago, when he told me we would never do this. When he used to insist that I had to remain a maiden for Harry. The smart course of action.

But reason and rationale had left us soon enough. The kisses and caresses turned into mouths on each other's necks, and hands pawing above our clothes, until those clothes were eventually discarded, and our mouths moved lower.

I truly believe he had the notion of keeping me as a virign. Perhaps he thought he was strong enough to only allow himself a taste of me.

I could hear the sharp hiss of him sucking in breath as he felt my tightness stretch around him, and I felt almost proud. As if I had personally proven him wrong.

It wasn't long before his pace quickened. Sometimes he was languid with me and took his time, drawing out the nights he had me smuggled in his bed, and he would spend hours bringing me to the brink and back again until we were both flushed and exhausted.

No. Tonight was about his jealousy. Hard and fast and brutal.

“He's not going to fuck you like this, is he?”

Is he? Is he? I could almost hear the question beg off his lips, desperate sounding. He was a powerful man, stood over me, thrusting into me, raw and rough, with his hand threaded through my hair so that I was pushed down to the bed, but yet he was still the weak one here. 

“You wont push up your ass like this for him....you won't drip down your thighs like this for him...” his voice was strained as he fucked me hard and fast, hands gripping into my hips, nails digging into my skin, sure to leave marks. 

“I won't, I won't...” I panted into the covers, delirious and drunk on both wine and pain as his cock slammed into me “Only you, father, only you...” I reassured him, thinking the words for empty, but as they tumbled from my lips I knew them in my heart to be true.

Harry would fuck me gentle. Perhaps he would not even fuck me at all. He would make love to me, press soft kisses on my neck, not bites, and he would stroke at me, and not grab. I would be delicate and virginial in his arms and in his mind.

I could hear Petyr's breath quicken even more as his thrusts came even shorter and sharper, and he tilted my hips, and I let out a strangled cry as he hit upon a point inside myself that had me arching against him, pain and pleasure no longer definable to their own measure, instead so intermixed all I could do was scream into the covers.

Harry would love me as an innocent, and I would feel all the more a whore for it. If he ever knew how far I'd sunk into depravity with the man rutting behind me, the man I called father as I came, Harry would be disgusted. Any sane person would be disgusted, I reasoned, it was I who was the sick girl. The sick girl who's father fucked her rough, who let him slide his fingers into her as she sat on his desk with her legs spread, and later sucked them clean of her own juices when he offered her a taste. That's who I was. Thats who only Petyr knew I was.

With a man like him I would always be virginial in comparison. For all the innocence I had lost, no matter how far I slipped, how far I sinned, I would never be so far gone as him. Even when I cried out, wracked in sweat, with his cock pressing deeper and further into me, I felt pure. He was hell itself, and I was only a little girl lost in him, drowned in his shadow. When I knelt at his feet as his daughter Alayne, with my eyes wide and my pink lips parted around the tip of his cock, suckling, staring up with adoration...it may sound mad, but I felt it. His eyes would grow dark and lost under the shroud of the sinful pleasure he took from me, and I would feel an innocent again under that gaze. A girl giving her father a kiss, thanking him...that's what he called it when he stroked me softly after, and called me sweetling, as if I really was his pure little girl that he had made and cherished and loved.

I pushed myself over the edge. My own hand came up to my clit and rubbed, with Petyr jerking violently into me from behind, and I wailed as I came. A girl gone mad, shaking and gasping into the sheets, slack jawed and lost in the feeling as I came.

For as sinful as I had become, I didn't fear any of the seven hells. Not when I knew the devil himself, and the devil himself loved me.


End file.
